


How to Lose Your Best Friend

by Alexannah



Series: Rockabye [5]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Graduation, Year That Never Was, time lord academy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-28
Updated: 2014-06-28
Packaged: 2018-02-06 13:19:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1859514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexannah/pseuds/Alexannah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the Valiant, the Doctor tries to get through to his once-best friend. Centuries previously, it’s their graduation day, and Theta has an epiphany. The moment that ended their friendship. [backstory]</p>
            </blockquote>





	How to Lose Your Best Friend

**Author's Note:**

> Could be read on own. Also should note, the flashback parts of this piece were written (long) before the series 7 finale aired.

_ The Valiant, 2007 _

“Koschei.”

The Master turned very slowly around to look his aged prisoner in the eye. “That won’t work,” he said flatly. “And if you can’t call me _Master_ , don’t say anything at all.” He nodded at the nearest sphere, which shot the Doctor in the shoulder with what must have been a low-level laser. With a yell, the Doctor crumpled to the floor, but struggled up again a moment later.

Jack, fresh from recovering from his seventh death by Toclafane (not that he was counting), was well restrained by flunkies awaiting orders, and watched the unfolding scene with bated breath.

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” the Doctor tried, wheezing slightly. “Just … stop. We can talk.”

“Oh, yeah?” the Master said sarcastically. “Talk about _what?_ ”

“Remember when …” The Doctor paused. “In the beginning; what we were. Just the two of us, against the world.” He spoke quietly, but every word was audible in the still room. “Remember? Now—it’s just the two of us again. We could … start afresh. Make it like what it was before.”

With a start, Jack suddenly remembered what the Doctor had said about he and the Master being friends. He watched the Master closely. For a split second, something seemed to flicker in his eyes. But then it was gone.

“Oh, really? And why would I want that?” The Master began pacing the room. “When I have …” he lifted his arms. “All this? A world at my feet. Minions at my command. A gorgeous companion and a universe that will fall like dominoes once I’ve got the necessary battleships ready. What makes you think I would give all that up?” He scoffed and turned his back on the Doctor.

“Because,” the Doctor said, “you’re still alone.”

The Master stilled.

“Isn’t that how all this started?” the Doctor continued. “Being alone?”

“And whose fault,” the Master growled, “was that?”

-

_ Approximately 885 years previously (Doctor’s time). Academy Graduation Day, Gallifrey _

To say Theta Sigma was nervous would be like saying Time Lords were proud. It was a huge understatement. Standing in line next to his best friend, his stomach was tied up in knots.

He knew he was graduating. He had passed. The letter had said so. But he didn’t trust that the Academy wouldn’t find some way of lowering his mark at the last minute. He couldn’t be certain of his achievement, wouldn’t take it for granted, until the certificate was actually in his hands.

The next name was read out, and Koschei gave Theta a shove in the shoulder. He was up.

Theta’s legs felt like rubber as he walked onto the stage. The Headmaster was smiling at him but the smile did not reach his eyes. Half-blinded by the lights and hands shaking with anticipation, he reached out for his certificate, and got his hand shaken instead. It was gripped unnecessarily hard, and Theta was fixed with a look that clearly communicated disappointment in his success.

Theta took his certificate, almost dropping it, and the jitters eased. That was it. He’d done it. Ten years of back-breaking work and he’d got it. He had his name, at last.

The Doctor.

He looked up at the audience for the first time. There was a smattering of polite applause; no more. Nobody cheering him as every other member of his class had been celebrated. He swallowed, looking around the seats. It shouldn’t have been a surprise—what had he been expecting? He had no-one to cheer him. Not anymore.

A lump arose in his throat, and he tried to swallow it. This wasn’t right, this was supposed to be the best day of his life, he’d accomplished what he’d spent ten years nearly killing himself to do. Today should have been the day he felt like he belonged. But as he looked at a gap in the audience, several empty seats where his family should have been, he felt like he’d been punched in the gut.

What had he done? He’d spent ten years trying to fit in. Why? What was wrong with him? He knew where he truly belonged. The only place he had belonged. Where he had family.

Still holding his certificate, he fled towards the exit.

-

“The Doctor.”

Koschei nudged his friend hard, and Theta stepped forwards out of line, stumbling slightly on his robes on his way to the stage. For someone about to graduate, he looked pretty terrified, as if frightened that his certificate would be taken away at the last minute.

A grin split over Koschei’s face, and he couldn’t help but feel proud. It was after all down to him that Theta had passed. The Doctor, he corrected himself, as said Time Lord accepted his certificate with trembling hands.

This was it—the moment they’d been working towards for ten years. All the late-night study sessions, forced care and generally being big brother had paid off. Koschei barely thought about his own graduation; it was apparent early on that he barely needed to try in order to pass with flying colours. Theta, however, whilst being just as brilliant, needed more of a helping hand, thanks to the biased marking. This translated as standing over him to make sure he ate, slept and had the occasional break from studying non-stop. If it hadn’t been for Koschei, Theta would have killed himself from exhaustion or starvation before even getting into third year. Not to mention the number of detentions Koschei had amassed in the act of protecting his friend from expulsion.

As a surprise, Koschei had organised a party for that night. Well, if two youths getting sozzled and carving their newly-earned names in the cliff face of Nforx counted as a party. But he’d cleared the Professors’ lounge of booze one last time, and spelled out ‘Congratulations’ on the cliff face in glowing letters in preparation.

As the Doctor stood on the stage, the crowd clapping politely, his eyes were sweeping the audience as if looking for someone. Koschei wondered if the moment had stunned him slightly. Who in the universe was he expecting to see? The Doctor looked back down at the certificate in his hand, and as the clapping died down, he ran, jumping off the stage and fleeing the hall entirely.

Koschei was stunned, but couldn’t do anything; the crowd around him was too thick. He just had to wait, until ‘The Master’ was called, and he collected his own certificate. Once he’d left the stage, barely registering the applause, he headed to the exit, though in a more sedate fashion.

Once outside, he paused, and reached out to the Doctor’s mind. It wasn’t letting him in. The Master swallowed. That wasn’t a good sign. The last time his friend had blocked him out was after they’d stolen his medical file five years ago. The Doctor hadn’t communicated at all for a week.

Still, at least he could work out where he was. The Master followed the trail. It took him over an hour, the Doctor had left the Academy entirely. Eventually, he came to the nearest TARDIS storage containment unit. The door was partly open, the lock broken.

“Oh, no,” the Master muttered. “What’s he playing at?”

A whirring, groaning noise came from inside. The Master ran in, but was too late as one of the TARDISes finished dematerialising.

“Goodbye to you too, mate,” he whispered.

-

_ 14 years later, High Court _

“Enter.”

The Master was marched into the courtroom, flanked by two members of the High Council. Still in his ragged prison clothes and held in chains, he felt like an unclean embarrassment in the grandeur of the room.

The President glared at him from his seat. The Master sighed.

“Look, my Lord President, we don’t have to keep going through this. I’ve already told you, I don’t know where the Doctor is.”

“You, Master, are his closest friend. Do you expect us to believe that you can’t even make an educated guess as to where he was headed?”

“I already did that,” the Master retorted. “For the hundredth time, I reckon he went to Earth. But you really didn’t need to be me to figure that much out. And for your information, I stopped being his closest friend when he ran off without so much as a goodbye.”

Or a thank you.

“We’re not interested in your petty squabbles, Master, I want my TARDIS back!” The President stood, glaring harder. “And every second you spend not helping us is another year to your sentence for accessory to theft.”

“I am _not_ an accessory!”

“My Lord President,” one of the other Council members spoke up, wariness in his tone. “I think the Master may be telling the truth.”

The Master’s ears pricked and he straightened up further.

There was a long discussion in Court, which the Master’s ears were not privy to. He stood silently, trying to look as innocent as possible.

Finally, the President, with great reluctance it seemed, announced his freedom.

“Really?” the Master blurted out, taken by surprise. The High Court was not well known for changing its mind ...

 _Ah_ , he thought as the realisation hit him. Of course, he was only being let go because they were hoping the Doctor would contact him, and then they could find out his location.

 _Well, good_ , he thought bitterly. If there had been any sympathy in him for his friend when the Doctor had first left, fourteen years in the Dungeon had seen to its removal. Selfish, that was what the Doctor was. Selfish and thoughtless and ungrateful for all the years of loyalty the Master had given him. He deserved everything the Council would eventually throw at him.

-

_ London, 1932 _

Not for the first time since his leaving Gallifrey, the Doctor’s thoughts turned to those he’d left behind. Well, the one person really.

He felt bad about leaving his best friend behind, but what other choice was there? He’d run on the spur of the moment; by the time what he was doing had really sunk in, he knew he couldn’t go back to get anyone. He’d be arrested the moment he set foot anywhere near the Citadel.

Stealing anything was a serious crime, but a TARDIS ... He would certainly end up imprisoned. And the Dungeon was well known for being one of the least tolerable prisons in the universe. Besides, the Master wouldn’t come anyway—his home was on Gallifrey.

The Master understood, he hoped. Why he’d had to leave. Him of all people should. He’d probably be mad with him anyway. The Doctor just hoped one day, his old friend would be able to forgive him.

-

_ Back on the Valiant _

“I said sorry.”

“Oh, and that of course solved everything!” the Master said with a sarcastic laugh.

“Only because you wouldn’t accept it,” the Doctor replied calmly. “You still haven’t let go, all this time; have you?”

“Don’t turn this around on me!” the Master snapped.

“A lifetime of striving for dominance because you can’t get over a grudge. I’m giving you a chance here, Koschei—give it up. Let go. Please.”

“ _Don’t call me that_.”

“It’s just us,” the Doctor pleaded. “I’m sorry, I truly am, for everything. We could just wipe the slate clean; forget everything we’ve done to each other and just start again. Friends again. Please.”

For one heart-stopping moment, Jack actually thought the Doctor had got through to him. The Master looked at the Doctor, for once with no malice in his eyes; he looked conflicted, tempted even. The expression softened.

But it hardened again seconds later, and the spite was back. “Koschei is dead,” the Master spat. “You killed him, Doctor.”

For a moment Jack was thoroughly confused—until the Master continued, “Koschei was selfless, and loyal, and valiant, and compassionate, and stuck his neck out for you every day for ten years. Then you threw it all back in my face. You taught me my greatest lesson, Doctor. Only look after Number One. _You_ made me who I am today. Don’t you feel so _proud_?”

The Master seized the Doctor and dragged him over to the window, forcing him to look down upon the terror below. “See the fruits of your actions, Doctor. All that death and destruction.” The Master inhaled, as if trying to smell something, and spoke the next words with relish. “ _All … your … fault_.”

Jack felt sick to the stomach as he could see how the words impacted the Doctor. He tried calling out to him, to tell him not to believe it, that the Master’s actions weren’t his responsibility; but had barely got a peep out when one of his restrainers covered his mouth. As the Doctor’s morale visibly crumbled before everyone’s eyes, the Master called in one of the soldiers.

“Kill him,” he said, and the nearest sphere whipped out its blades and attacked. The Doctor whirled around, mouth falling open in horror, and the Master grasped his shoulder tightly.

“Try and make _friends_ again,” he said, “and someone else will die for it. Is that clear?”

The Doctor nodded shakily, his withered face white, and the screams finally stopped.

**The End**


End file.
